


every me and every you

by lovelivesinthedream



Category: Dominion (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-06 21:25:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1873008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelivesinthedream/pseuds/lovelivesinthedream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The point is that Alex has survived on his own for years, and he sure as hell doesn’t need some pompous ass angel suddenly trying to control him. </p><p>He knows that, feels the certainty of it in his bones: he doesn’t need Michael.</p><p>And yet…</p>
            </blockquote>





	every me and every you

Alex doesn’t need help from anyone. 

He’s lived his life alone for the most part, and, sure, times were hard. He learned to fight and defend himself against the jackass older boys in the orphanage that used to mock him and try to steal his meager food. He discovered the hidden paths through the dangerous, winding city streets—camouflaging himself expertly to avoid desperate thieves and ill-intentioned propositions on dirty street corners. He went to bed hungry, filthy and cold under a paper thin blanket on a stone hard cot. In a way, the transition to army life was easy, a blessing. The biggest changes were three meals a day and a shower readily available.

The point is that Alex has survived on his own for years, and he sure as hell doesn’t need some pompous ass angel suddenly trying to control him. 

He knows that, feels the certainty of it in his bones: he doesn’t need Michael.

And yet…

He can’t shake the memory of Michael’s face when Alex said he couldn’t trust him. The complete incomprehension pulling down the edges of Michael’s stern lips as if Alex was speaking an indecipherable language, like the very idea that Alex wants Michael far away from himself is unimaginable. 

“What are you thinking about?” Claire’s voice cuts through his heavy thoughts. Her hand drags up his chest, fingers tracing the unwanted stains upon his skin. He doesn’t understand how she can find them beautiful when all he wants is to rip them from his body.

He shrugs and tries to pull his mind back into order. He has the woman he loves in his arms, enjoying one of the very rare times that they can be alone. Michael should not have any place in this moment.

“Come on, Alex. You don’t need to keep anything from me,” she persists in that way she always does when she’s after something she wants. Her fingertips press harder, leaving white and then pink trails in the wake of her nails. “You know you can trust me.”

A day ago, he wouldn’t have hesitated to answer. Secrets would have flowed from his lips like water from a faucet. But today he is cautious, the warning from the tattoo coming to the forefront of his thoughts despite his desire to ignore anything to do with them. 

“It’s nothing. Really,” he emphasizes when her eyes narrow. She huffs, kicking him with her delicately boned foot. He sighs and tries to disentangle himself from her grasp. “Fine, fine. I was just thinking about something that happened with Michael earlier.”

She frowns. Even in the semi-darkness he can see the displeasure on her face. “You were thinking about Michael this whole time?” It sounds like an accusation, like Alex has done something wrong. 

It’s not his fault that the archangel’s face keeps haunting him. It’s just that if anyone asked Alex to describe the look on Michael’s face right before he left, he’d have to say the man appeared hurt. Confused, yeah, but definitely pained, and that’s what keeps tripping him up. Michael is always solemn, stern and formal at every turn. Alex has never seen any strong emotion cloud Michael’s face. Until today. The archangel had seemed genuinely injured by Alex’s distrust, and that didn’t make any sense to Alex.

He swings his legs over and sits at the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees. Claire moves behind him and reaches for his hand. The faint light sparks off the opal ring on her finger, making it glow in the darkly lit room. It’s almost unnatural. 

Although it is probably nothing, Alex suddenly feels anxious, trapped in a room he shouldn’t even be in. He needs to get away.

“Wait. Don’t go, Alex. The maid won’t be in until morning, and I sleep better with you here.”

She knows that he doesn’t sleep well here because he can’t relax with the constant threat of discovery looming over his head. It’s selfish of her to ask, but then again, Alex has always indulged all of her whims. Their relationship doesn’t know any other way.

She’s sitting up now, draping herself around him with the thin sheet sliding off her body to reveal all her soft curves, some of them pressing into his back in a way that would have been more than tempting on any other day. Alex has lost himself in them more than once. It used to be something he was sure of.

“Claire, I’m sorry, but there’s an early meeting tomorrow. New orders coming down from the top, you know how it is.” That sounds plausible enough given the havoc of the last two days.

He gently pries her off, standing and hazardously stepping into his uniform pants. He shouldn’t have come here. The anxious feeling is growing, solidifying into something heavy and cold in his chest. He stumbles to the door. As he turns the handle, Claire speaks quietly. When he turns to look, she’s facing the open window, staring out at the starless sky.

“Your choices have consequences for everyone now, Alex. Just keep that in mind.”

He doesn’t bother with a reply. It might be unfair of him, but he can’t help thinking that Claire only cares about the prophecy now. Alex is no longer anything more to her than the harbinger. She promised to follow him anywhere, but when it comes down to it, she won’t do anything she doesn’t plan herself. Alex has no say in any of it. 

The door closes soundlessly behind him as he leaves, quick strides taking him silently out of the building. Why does he feel like he’s caged himself in a lion’s den?

When he’s outside, safely enclosed in the thick, warm night air, he lets his feet lead him. The pressure in his chest eases as he walks. He’s almost unsurprised when he finds himself outside of Michael’s door. He’s shaking more than he wants to admit when he reaches to knock. Uncertainty claws at him. He’s on the brink of something here, the precipice of a realization that is going to change everything for him. It’s there in his mind, just out of reach. 

Knocking is probably not necessary; Michael is more than likely to have heard him coming. 

Seconds pass and the door remains closed. Alex frowns, brows furrowed as he hesitantly turns the knob. He snorts when the cool silver turns easily in his hand. Of course, Michael doesn’t lock his door. 

He steps quietly in the circular room. The only light comes from the half moon, hanging so closely out the surrounding windows that Alex imagines he can touch it. 

At first, he thinks that nobody is home. It’s quiet and dark, no movement or sound to signal a presence. He moves closer to the round bed cautiously, wary of the way the thin, hanging canopies obscure his already limited view. The only thing visible is a large lump in the middle of the bed. 

His heart stops. Is Michael hurt? Did Gabriel manage to get to him after all? Damn idiot, leaving his door unlocked. Alex squeezes his eyes shut, pushing the thought from his mind harshly. He might not be Michael’s biggest fan, but the very idea that the angel could be injured or worse causes Alex to break out in a cold sweat of dread. 

He steps closer warily, palms damp and hands shaking, holding his breath as he pushes the gauzy cloth out of the way. What he sees makes his heart stop.

Alex isn’t exactly close to Michael, and admittedly, he doesn’t know very much about the other man. He doesn’t know if angels have different needs than humans. Yeah, he’s seen the bed before, but he’d always sort of written it off as a prop, a very ornate decoration to make Michael seem more human. It has never even crossed Alex’s mind that Michael might need to sleep. 

Or that Michael can feel desire the way a human can.

The evidence before him points to the contrary, though. The moonlight falls just softly enough through the now parted canopy to illuminate Michael on his back against the crimson sheets as he sleeps, dark hair in unfamiliar disarray, sweat dampened and pushed away from his face like hands had weaved through the strands in an intimate way. His normally serious expression has been replaced with a look of peaceful tranquility. The line between his brows has smoothed, his shoulders aren’t held rigidly, and his mouth is parted slightly, lips swollen and deep red. Despite himself, Alex can’t deny that Michael is beautiful like this. Ethereal. 

There is a dark head of hair pillowed on the side of Michael’s chest, brown curls draping modestly, covering Michael’s left nipple. Alex can’t see her face clearly, but he is almost positive that it’s Senator Thorn from what he is able to see. The silken sheet covers her body, only leaving her bare shoulder and arm that is wrapped around Michael’s torso exposed. 

It’s clear what they’ve been up to. 

He backs away, feeling a different sort of uneasiness creep upon him. This bothers him. Seeing Michael look so vulnerable, so unguarded under the senator’s grasp. It’s not right. Michael is supposed to be above them all--unreachable, untouchable in his purity. The angel is not supposed to be consorting with humans. He’s not supposed to allow himself to be so defenseless. 

A tiny voice in the back of his mind meekly wonders if this is jealousy biting at Alex’s core. 

He rejects the very suggestion of such an absurdity. Why would he be jealous? He doesn’t have any feelings for Senator Thorn. Claire is behaving differently now, but he still cares for her. Things are far from ideal between them, but they’re still together. There’s no reason at all to be envious in this situation. 

Except--he’s never seen this side of Michael before; he hadn’t even known it was a possibility. He didn’t know that Michael could be so warm looking, so inviting. He didn’t know that Michael was anything more than a self-important prick that enjoyed telling lesser beings what to do. Alex is shocked to discover that he is more than willing to get to know Michael in this soft light. 

He leaves with a queasiness building inside of him. He pauses for only a second before locking the door behind himself--there’s no point in inviting death to waltz right in. (He can admit, to himself at least, that he does enjoy the thought of Michael’s confusion and annoyance when he discovers the door locked in the morning. It is sure to perplex the angel.) The picture of what he’d seen burns behind his eyes, imprinting itself on the back of his eyelids long after he’s wandered back to the barracks and crawled into bed. 

Sleep comes slowly, and even then he can’t escape dark eyelashes brushing over porcelain cheeks and pink lips curving temptingly. 

He hopes the archangel doesn’t listen to the things he said in a fit of confusion and anger. He hopes Michael doesn’t stay away.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll probably end up continuing this. Dominion is my new favorite thing, and I need all the fic ever, but we don't have much yet (I'm really grateful to everyone that has written!), so I'll try to add to the fandom ^^


End file.
